Author's Note: Here I am again after a long break between uploads, sorry about that! I tank you all for the reviews. As far as Ghiaccio's future in this story, I think I have a goal in mind, but the rest of you will just have to wait and see! ;)


They were staring at him again. It was the fiftieth time this week and yes, Ghiaccio did keep counting each and every happenstance. He drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, drowning out the teacher's lecture of pointless second grade math. It had been a month since the incident at the junkyard and Ghiaccio was still trying to salvage some sense of normalcy. It was too bad everyone else was making it extremely hard to do just that.

He remembered being swarmed by the flashes of cameras not even an hour after the heat had died down. The journalists were crafty and it didn't take long for the whole situation to make headline news. Luckily for Ghiaccio his name wasn't stated outright, since he was still a minor, but just looking at how they worded it made it open for interpretation.

"Takara!"

Ghiaccio's attention snapped to his teacher, who was standing right next to his desk with a pursed frown on her lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the heads of his classmates all turned to his direction. One well placed glare sent most looking away out of fright.

"Takara, this is the last time. If I catch you doing this again I'll be forced to send you to the principal's office."

The woman said that with a tone that seemed like Ghiaccio's life would be over, but he was mentally aware enough to call her on her bullshit. That didn't mean that he actually would say that out loud, that was the last thing he wanted. Ghiaccio swore up and down that Mr. Moto, the principal of this good for nothing school, was up to no good. The man was a massive bulk of muscle stuffed in the tight constraints of a black suit. Ghiaccio was sure that that man had some affiliation with organized crime, but that was up in the air. One thing was for sure, It would be unwise to get on that man's bad side.

"Takara!"

Giaccio could feel the butt of an eraser collide with his forehead. He winced, glancing up at his teacher who's frown had morphed into an all out glare. She said nothing, instead pointing at the door with her slim pointer finger.

Ghiaccio's heard wanted to shrivel up and float away.


He stood in front of the principel's door, silently marveling at how it towered over him. He ignored the bead of sweat rolling down is cheek as he knocked. There was a minute of silence, the sound of ruffling papers before a deep baritone rumbled through the thin walls.

"Come in."

Ghiaccio opened the door, ignoring the fact that his hand shook as it gripped the door knob. Why was he shaking, he'd faced dangerous threats before, much more dangerous compared to a visit to the principal's office. He shook his head, deciding to bypass his unusual feelings of anxiety and stepping into the supposed lion's den.

For a man that reeked an imposing aura, his work space seemed far too homely for someone of his type. Mr. Moto's office was always warmly lit, walls covered in an immaculate amount of filled bookshelves. Ghiaccio would have been quite surprised if he managed to actually read them all, it seemed that he only had them for show. Sitting behind a wooden desk and in a chairt too small for his size was Mr. Moto, his square face eternally resting in a frown that could destroy the hearts of many.

Ghiaccio silently made his way to the small chair in front of his desk, plopping down with his arms crossed in indifference.

"Mr. Bakugo," Moto began. "What a surprise, I can tell that you're excited to be here." Ghiaccio felt the urge to roll his eyes, but he decided against it, this hadn't been his first visit to this office. Ghiaccio hoped that the older man could tell that the attempt for small talk was getting him nowhere, and he was glad when the other decided to just cut to the chase.

"Mr. Bakugo, care to tell me why you are in my office? Was it Mrs. Hideyoshi again?"

Mr. Moto hummed when Ghiaccio nodded yes to his question. The two of them sat in silence as the older man ran a hand through his stubble beard growing on his chin. Eventually nodded and a ghost of a smile graced his lips. "Well that's unsurprising, that woman always tends to overreact at anything not going her way." Moto chuckled silently to himself before falling back to that familiar frown, cold brown eyes analyzing Ghiaccio's sitting posture.

"Takara, how have you been?"

"Uh, you mean my school work? Well nothings-"

"I'm not talking about your school work, I'm talking about you."

Ghiaccio stilled, inwardly groaning at the implications of the question. Ever since the incident at the junkyard Mitsuki and Masaru were adamant that Ghiaccio attend a child psychiatrist, worried about any mental issues that might have been created by the stress of that situation. Ghiaccio of course denied that he needed any help at all, and made sure to tell that psychiatrist just that. Though that didn't really turn out in his favor, in actuality it only garnered more attention and concern. Ghiaccio wanted to kick himself for putting himself in this stupid situation.

"Takara." Mr. Motos imposing voice broke Ghiaccio out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

Mr. Moto said nothing, instead he continued to stare at Ghiaccio as if he confirmed his suspicions.

Oh no. "Mr. Moto I swear I'm fine." Ghiaccio had just about enough about everyone questioning his mental state. If there was one thing he missed about his time in Passione, was the don't ask don't tell mentality. What was someone's business wasn't for you to get your grubby hands on, not without asking permission. Here it seemed like everyone and their mother wanted to know how he was either doing of feeling. Too pushy and overbearing, like they had their own personal psychiatrist lisence.

Ghiaccio didn't need anyone travelling in his business, especially not some beefcake looking like an overstuffed turkey. Luckily, the lunch bell saved Ghiaccio from anymore time sitting in that office. Ghiaccio glanced towards the door and with a resigned sigh, Mr Mr. Moto let him go. Ghiaccio felt giddy as he stood up from the chair, but one look at Mr. Moto's pensive face caused a pang of guilt to bloom inside of his chest. Guilt, the word made Ghiaccio shudder at the mention of it, Ghiaccio never felt guilt.

Ghiaccio tsked, strutting passed the congregating crowd of second graders as he headed back towards his homeroom for lunch. But he never made it far,out when a really loud and obnoxious voice called his name from down the hall. Ghiaccio stopped in his tracks and sighed, he knew that voice anywhere. He just wished he could have a brief amount of time to himself before-

"Hey Takara!"

-his day would be interrupted yet again.

"What do you want Yoshirou?" Ghiaccio growled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He could see the boy's smile falter at the cold greeting he was given, but he bounced back like any stubborn child would. His injuries were far worse than the awful bruises Ghiaccio had on his small body. The blows to his head garnered Yoshirou a nasty concussion that left him in a medically induced coma for a few days, to reduce brain swelling. He was released from the hospital a week ago, but under a strict watch to do no extraneous amount of physical activity.

Ghiaccio could barely stand looking at him.

"Here!" The young boy presented a bento wrapped in Ghiaccio's favorite color: Blue. Ghiaccio stared down at the box in the boy's hands, almost as it was going to explode.

"What is this?" He asked, not even meeting the other's eyes.

"Food, my momma made it! Besides, I figured you'd want it since you've been complaining about your mom's terrible cooking!"

Ouch, the kid could be blunt sometimes, not like Ghiaccio was going to correct him either. Mitsuki had started trying to make his and Katsuki's lunch, to no avail. In all honesty Ghiaccio wanted to tell her straight that the woman couldn't cook for shit but he still loved being alive. He remembered the one time when Katsuki made the single mistake of talking shit about Mitsuki's cooking right in front of her, the aftermath was an absolutely amazing shitshow to watch.

So he took the bento out of Yoshirou's hands, he was grateful for whatever food he got as long as it wasn't Mitsuki's cooking.

"Thanks Yoshi-kun." Ghiaccio smiled, the nickname flying out of his mouth before his mind could catch up with him. Once Ghiaccio realized what exactly he had done, it was too late to go back. Yoshioru was smiling wildly, unaware of Ghiaccio's crippling embarrassment at himself at that moment.

"I knew you'd like it!" He beamed, walking past with a pep to his step. "Let's head to lunch, I'm starving!"


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The merciless Egyptian sun beat down on the sand covered landscape. As far as the eye could see laid the remains of an ancient civilization lost to time, layers of sand covering what was left akin to a burial shroud. They were a group of six, an excavation team, sent by a foreign archaeological agency to help in the efforts of studying a recent digging site.

It was found in a similar fashion as all of the others, one adventurous local had gotten their curious mind in a place that they shouldn't have, and instead of ending up dead, they found a gold mine. Everyone working in that site was ecstatic, they had atmosphere around them that was equally amped up for the next historic find.

So they dug, removing sand and dusting every structure to get a glimpse at what once was, only to find something that no one had ever expected; a cave. It was hidden behind collapsed rubble with countless of perfectly preserved clay pots among other things. Though most of what was in them was lost to time, laying undisturbed inside an overturned pot, was something bound in rotting cloth.

Arrows.

They were perfectly preserved, with no age to its name. No one knew why they were there, they seemed to high quality to end up tucked away and nearly lost to time. To no one's surprise they were taken along for study and but eventually forgotten,some were sent off to be displayed in museums. Others were sold as antiques, something to browse over at an obscure shop in a street corner. No one knew what they truly were or of the horror that would come out of their release into the world.

Only a small few that were reborn into this world felt something pull at their senses, the reemerging of an ancient terror that they all thought was nonexistent.

Until now..


Ghiaccio had been staring at the food in his bento for a straight minuet. He was frozen in place, chopsticks stuck inside a now trembling hand. He could feel the concerned gaze from Yoshirou but, that wasn't important at the moment. Because he was feeling something, and that something didn't feel right at all. His White Album was growing restless from inside of him almost like it was being drawn to something, an unknown force from far away.

He never felt White album get this agitated before, it was as if another stand user was nearby. Ghiaccio dismissed that thought immediately, there was no way that could be the case. If a stand user was nearby he would have gotten a completely different feeling. The feeling he was having at that moment was deeper, more instinctual. It was almost as if...

As if...

It couldn't be...

The arrows?

An awful sense of dread pooled deep into Ghiaccio's gut. There was no way he could eat, not with those thoughts running through his mind. If he was right, and this feeling was from the arrows...

Ghiaccio bit his lip as he stared out his homeroom window. He heard rumors that they were first discovered in Egypt, he wondered if it was the same here. No matter, even if this feeling wasn't because of the arrows and his mind was playing tricks on him, he had to be careful.

Something told him that this wouldn't be the last time he would be feeling this way.


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Rain fell down from the sky in sheets, making it hard for the very few drivers out in the thick of the Irish country roads to see. It was deep into the night and while most were asleep in the quiet town of Avibagne, one child was awake.

He was curled in on himself, scraping his fingernails against the old wooden floor of his home. A laugh, filled with a mix of malice and glee echoed out into the room, going unnoticed to other occupants of the home. They weren't asleep, no they were in the same room as him, strewn about on the floor with their eyes and mouths frozen in an expression of fear.

"They were a shit family" The boy thought. "Complete degenerates." He wanted to gag at the smell of foul food and acidic alcohol, but that wasn't his problem anymore. He could hear the pulsing of his power, a sickly green mold eating away at the corpses on the floor. It would be one problem out of the way, the next was waiting for him the next morning but that didn't matter, not now.

There was something else on his mind.

"I knew it," He hissed into the air. "They're here! They exist in this world!"

His laughter had filled the halls of his home, but he didn't care. The arrows a were here, calling for him like a siren in the ocean. The boy headed their call, and in that dark room, he came to a desicion.

He would make it his mission to find them. They would be only for him and no other, consequences be damned.


Well aint that interesting!

Turns out there are other stand users reborn into this world. I'm sure you manga readers know who the guy at the end of this chapter is!